196001 Desert Magazine 1960 January

8/14/2019 196001 Desert Magazine 1960 January

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V a c a t i o n M o u n d . . .or M o u n d ?D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E

JF I L L E O T H B I L L S . . .. . . and fill them well! These magazines, complete and in perfectcondition, can be your guideand provide your reading pleasuretothe Desert Southwest's outstanding scenic attractions, ghost towns,highways and back country trails, lost treasure areas, gem-mineral fields.

O R D E R BY SETSFIELD TRIPSI

May 52Beculy Inside Ancient Pebbles (Topock, Ariz.)*Jim. 52Petrified Wood Along Butterfield Trail (Calif.)*May 53Harquahala Bonanza (Ariz.)*Aug. 53Historic Wind River Country Pass (Wyo.)*S e p . 53Crystal Field at Quartzsite (Ariz.)*Jun. 54-Indian Jasper in the Whipples (Calif.)*

FIELD TRIPSIIAug. 55Opal Miner of Rainbow Ridge (Nev.)*Nov. 55Chemehuevi Rock Trails (Calif.)*D e c . 55Saddle Mountain Chalcedony (Ariz.)*Jun. 56Circle Cliffs Petrified Wood (Utah)*Nov. 56Gem Stones of Palo Verde Pass (Calif.)*Oct. 57Punta Penasco Marine Treasures (Sonora)*

DESERT LIVINGS e p . 54Cabin on Lizard Acres (Apple Valley, Calif.)Aug. 55Native Plants in a GardenJun. 56We Use the Sun to Heat Our WaterNov. 56Desert Garden Pest ControlF e b . 57When Desert Dweller Plants a TreeMay 58Desert Living in Tucson

GHOS T T OW N SJul. 53Man Who Bought a Ghost Town (Calico, Calif.)*May 54Nevada Ghost Town (Unionville)*F e b . 57Only the Sidewalk Remains at Gold Creek (Nev.)*Oct. 57Sleeping Ghosts in the New York Mountains (Calif.',Apr. 58SkidooGhost Camp in the Panamints (Calif.)*May 58When the Brass Band Played at Taylor (Nev.)*

INDIANSMay 52White Hat Returns to the Land of Witch WomanOct. 52Tribal Meeting of the NavajoAug. 53Miracle in Parker Valley*May 54Raphael 's Last Deer DanceJun. 54They Wouldn't Be Civilized (Seri)*Aug. 55Ban-i-quash Builds a House of Grass (Papago)

LOST MINESOct. 52Lost Pima Indian Gold (Ariz.)May 53Lost Mine of the Blond Mayo (Ariz.)*Aug. 53Lost Blue Bucket Gold (Oregon)*S e p . 53Did They Find the Lost Breyfogle Mine? (Nev.)*Jun. 54Lost Ledge of Mammoth Mountain (Calif.)Nov. 55Lost Gold of Jarbidge (Nev.)*

BOTANYJ u l . 53Desert Cousins of Candytuft (Wallflower)S e p . 53Confusing Quartet (Yucca, Nolina, Agave, Sotol)Jun. 55Strange Plants from Desert LandsAug. 55 -Flowers that Blossom in AugustD e c . 55Valiant Is the IronwoodJun. 56Poisonous Desert Plants

EXPLORATION. ADVENTUREMay 52Goblin Valley (Utah)*Jun. 52Murray Canyon Is a Challenge (Calif.)*Oct. 52Glen Canyon Voyage (Utah)*May 53We Climbed Coxcomb Peak (Calif.)*S e p . 53Palm Canyon's West Fork (Calif.)*May 54We Climbed an Old Volcano (Mopah Peak, Calif.:

*Issues with detailed maps.

Each Set of 6 Magazines 5 1All 8 Sets (2 0 different magazines) $3

(Supplies are limited, and w e reserve the right to make appropriate substitutes. Single copies ma ybe purchased from the above lists at 25c eachminimum order: $1)


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Publ isher 's Notes Thousands of new readers will be introduced to DesertMagazine this month, thanks to the generosity of subscriptiondonors who are using Desert as a gift idea.This business of sending magazine subscriptions as Christ-mas, birthday and anniversary gifts is growing rapidly. Andthere's no "payola" tinge connected with a remembrance thatis as thoughtful as a subscription to a quality magazine.

:;: :;: The year of 1960will be a federal census year. It willshow amazing population growth throughout the Southwest.Areas that were open sweeps of cactus-studded plain will soonbe teeming cities. Aswater becomes available, vast valleylands,once suitable only for grazing, are being converted to intenseagricultural use. The pressure of population in America hasforced the "discovery" of the desert country as an increasinglyattractive place of residence and commerce.It will be Desert Magazine's job to record some of thechanges being wrought on the face of the Southwest, though,frankly, we long for the "good old days," whenever and what-ever they were!On e of the changes for the betterin recent yearshasbeen the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum near Tucson. Thisfine museum-zoo recognizes the vast changes ahead, the prob-lems and heartaches that go with a burgeoning populationpicture. Instead of bemoaning the desert's "fate," the museumis teaching its visitors an appreciation of the desertland, an

understanding of the delicate balance of animal andplant lifethat exists in the arid portions of the Southwesteducatingfor conservation of our natural resources.A three-part feature in this issue of Desert tells of theArizona-Sonora Desert Museum's commendable efforts to keepup with thechanging Southwest.* * *Following distribution of our November issue, many read-ers wrote us, asking if reprints of the John Hilton paintings

which appeared on the covers were available. At the presenttime no reprints have been made, but we hope, after a fewmore paintings have appeared on our covers, to make up aportfolio of selected reprints, suitable for framing and devoidof lettering. This project will be sometime hence, however.The next artist to appear on Desert's cover will be FremontEllis of Santa Fe, NewMexico. One of his Monument Valleypaintings will be the subject of our March front cover.* # *New readers whowant to travel through more of Desert'spages than they might find available on a month-to-monthbasis should examine theback-issue notice that appears on theopposite page. Last year almost 8000 back-copies of Desertwere purchased by members of the Desert Magazine family.: ; : ; ; : : :A happy, healthy, prosperous and pleasant New Year toyou all

CHUCK SHELTONPublisher

I he Desert Magazine, founded in19 7 by Randall Henderson, is pub-lis led monthly by Desert Magazine,Inc., Palm Desert, Cal i -forn ia . Re-entered assecond c lass m at te r^ July 17, 1948, at thepostoffice at Palm Des-\ 0 ert, California, underth e Act of March 3,1879. Title registeredNo 358865 in U.S. Patent Office,am' contents copyrighted 1960 byDe-ert Magazine, Inc. Permission torep oduce contents must be securedfrom the editor in writ ing.Chi \RLES E. SHELTON . . PublisherELiiENE L. CONROTTO . . . EditorRANDALL HENDERSONAdvisory EditorEVONNE RIDDELLCirculation Manager

Address all correspondence toDe ert Magazine, Palm Desert, Cal.Unsolicited manuscripts and pho-to

O U T D O O R S O U T H W E S TVolume 23 JANUARY. 1960 Number 1

C O V E R Man puts shackles upon the golden sands in a fruit-less attempt to stay their wandering feet. Againstthese sand-fences the dunes pile in frozen waves.Josef Muench took the cover photo on the ColoradoDesert in Coachella Valley, Calif.Charles E. Shelton

Bob and Marge RiddellPhyllis W. Heald

James AbarrHarrison Doyle

W. Thetford LeVinessBernard L. Fontana

Margaret StovallNell Murbarger

John HiltonEdmund C. Jaeger

Brower Hall

DESERT PROJECTTRAVELING ZOO

PERSONALITYARCHEOLOGY

HISTORYART

LOST TREASURECOMMUNITY

TRAVELADVENTURE

NATUREBACK COVER

69

121518202224273843

4: Readers' Letters30: Southwest Books

Arizona-Sonora MuseumDesert Ark"Cactus John" HaagLegendary PecosBoy's Eyeview of NeedlesIla McAfee of TaosPapago ArsenalPioche, NevadaMexico's Route 2Isla EncantadaHummingbirdsRivoli's Hummingbird

also 5: Photo of the Month31 : New Mexic32: Arizona TravelApache Trail

37: California TravelEssex Country41: Photo Hints 42: Editorial

14: Driving TipsD TravelPueblo Dances36: News Briefs40: Poem of the Month

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Mail this information and your remittance to: Desert Magazine,Palm Desert, California.


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LETTERSFR O M OUR READERS -Praise for Jaeger . . .Desert:Edmund Jaeger's nature study articlesare tremendously worthwhile. But. I cannotremember anything that went right to theheart as much as did his "Creosote Bush"in the November issue. My memory wentback to the days when we used to explorethe desert between Whitewater, Calif., andYuma, Ariz.before there was a pavedhighway through that country. I recalledthe corduroy roads, the sign at Fig TreeJohn's: "No water ahead for 40 miles."C. M. G O ETH ESacramento, Calif.

NE W . . . NEW . . .NEWTERRY'S

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Unusual mountings and findin gs. Good selec-t ion of jewelers too ls, equ ipme nt, supplies,silver, books, cut stones, etc. Top qual i tymerchandise at reasonable prices.SEND 50c T O D A Y FORYOUR COPYMoney refunded on first $5.00 order

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Cash for Contributions$15: Photo of the Month

Photos should be black and whi te , 5x7or larger, and of a Desert Southwestsubject. For non-winning pictures ac-cepted for publ icat ion, $3 each willbe paid. Address: Photo Contest.$5: Poem of the Month

Poems must be original, previously un-published and not more than 24 linesin length. O nly desert subjects con-sidered. Address: Poetry Contest.

Contributions cannot be acknowledgedor returned unless postage enclosed.Mai! to:

DESERT MAGAZINEPalm D esert, C alif.

An Old-Timer Remembers . . .Desert:It was with a great deal of interest thatI read Harrison Doyle's story of earlyNeedles, Calif., in the November DesertMagazine. Needles was my "hometown"when I was a young man (I first arrivedin 1886). Doyle's father was well knownto me, as was the girl, Hazel. I barelyknew the boy, Harrison, he being so muchyounger than I. But, he tells a very goodstory, indeed, of life in Needles in thosedays, and I shall look forward eagerly forthe third installment of his reminiscence.CHARLES BATTYESan Bernardino, Calif.

Forthright Eyeview . . .Desert:Harrison Doyle's "Boy's Eyeview" seriesis terrific. The stories are forthright, unem-broidered and nonmoralizing. I hope formany more of them. Doyle is a wonderfulreporter. MRS. B. ROUTH BRADLEYSalt Lake City(Doyle's third and concluding "Boy'sEyeview" appears onpage 18.Ed.)Fresh Bread Aroma . . .Desert:Ruth Westphal's "Homestead Christmas1880" in the Christmas issue of DesertMagazine captured our fancy. But Mrs.Westphal forgot to add the fascinating andtantalizing aroma of sour dough bread bak-ing in Grandmother's wood-burning stoveor cooling off on the table under a cleandish towel. VERA L. AUSTINBurbank, Calif.Christmas Spirit . . .Desert:The color insert in the December issuewas beautiful, and the captions of Biblicalquotations most appropriate. Are copies ofthis insert available? MEL YOUNGPhoenix

(The special insert along with a mailingenvelopeca n hepurchased for 25ceach.Orders should he sent to: Desert Maga-zine, Palm Desert, Calif.Ed.)LAPIDARY DISPLAY ATDESERT MAGAZINE

George Ashley's award-winning lapidarywork will be placed on display during themonth of January at the admission-freeDesert Magazine Art Gallery in Palm Des-ert, Calif. Ashley, owner of a rare kunzitemine in Pala, Calif., will show bowls andvases he carved from a variety of gem ma-terials, including chrysocolla, jade, agate,petrified wood, variscite. malachite, ame-thyst and jasper.

These pieces have been exhibited in majorgem shows, winning for their creator manyawards, including the Parser Trophy foroutstanding lapidary achievement at theNational GemShow at Denver in 1957.

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Photo of the MonthHikers pa use in Muav Cave in the Lower GrandCanyon to inspect at long range an eroded but-tress on the other side of the Colorado River.Photo is by Hulbert Burroughs.

(see preceding page for photo of the month contest rules)

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U N I Q U E Z O OU N I Q U E M U S E U M

- - a n d all d e s e r tVisitors to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museumin the saguaro-studdedfoothil ls of Tucsongain knowledge andunderstanding of aninteresting, arid zone

By CHARLES E. SHELTONENTRANCE T O THE MUSEUM GRO UNDS

A "NEW AND ENJOYABLE EXPERIENCE"-SEEING ANIMALSIN NATURAL UNDERGROUND SURROUNDINGS- IS AFFORDEDBY MUSEUM'S TUNNEL EXHIBIT. ENT RANCE, SHO WN BELOW,LEADS D O WN R AMP TO SPECIALLY-LIGHTED VIEW ING ARE A.

GRAPHIC DISPLAYS ARE KEYNOTE TO UNDE RS TANDING MU-SE UM'S ED UCATIONAL E XHIBITS. BY PUSHING BUTTO NS ATVARIOUS ST ATIONS, VISITO RS MAY HEAR PRE-RECORDEDMESSAGES O N SO IL AND WATER CONSE RVATION TO PICS.


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A KIT FOX, FURTIVE creature of the desert land,wakened in its cool underground den, opened itssleepy eyes and gazed at a matronly lady from Ohiowho was standing quietly fascinated a few inches from thefox's nose.A couple of paces from this scene some rattlesnakes,seeking escape from the sun's searing rays, crawled intotheir cave, coiling to rest near the pointed fingertip of aman from Colorado who explained to his wife, "They'vecome down here into the tunnel where it 's cool; they can'ttake too much heat ."The tunnel he was referring to is one of several unusualfeatures of Tucson's Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, amuseum-zoo that is unique in its field. After wanderingover much of the museum's grounds I was convinced thatit is one of the best planned desert research centers in thewo rld. Ye t, I'm still not sure whethe r the place is amuseum or a zoo or a Nature preserveo r al l three. Ormore .

Let's look at the tunnel as an example of the unusual.It is a subway 14 feet deep, covered with native rock andcrow ned with cactus. On each side of the 175-foot cavernare glass-fronted dens and caves where a dozen differentdesert animals spend their days. At night they can climbinto outdoor cages. Some of the subterranean cubicles areoccupied by ant colonies, others by spreading roots ofgrowing plants.In the tunnel, the only one of its kind when it was firstbuilt, human beings comfortably walk down a ramp toexamineonly a glass-pane awaythe basement behaviorof a badger in his dug-out, sleeping bats, prairie dogs,snakes, skunks, ring-tail cats and other denizens that areseldom seen by man because of their nocturnal habits.William H. Carr, founder and director-emeritus of theArizona-Sonora Desert Museum, described the stirringsthat led to the creation of the Tunnel Ex position: "I hadbeen connected with the museum since its inception andwas familiar with the frequent que stion: 'Why don 't wesee more animals here? Isn't this supposed to be a zooor wildlife are a?' It would be a hot summ er day. I'dexplain that desert animals usually go underground to es-cape the heat of day. The n there would follow a rem ark:T guess we are here at the wrong time of the day,' or'Wouldn't it be interesting to be able to look undergroundand see how they live down there?' "So the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum designed andbuilt the novel tunnel which is today one of the specialfeatures of this interesting desert educ ational center. A n-other unique program sponsored by the museum is "WaterStreet," a quarter-million dollar outdoor exhibit that tellsin graphic and understandable mechanics why water con-servation in the arid areas of the Southwest is so important.The purpose of Water Street is to educate. By pushinga button the casual visitor can learn, through an ingeniousmeasuring device, the destructive power of a drop of rainfalling on denu ded so il. The visitor, too, can watch a dozenor more other machines that gauge the percolating qualitiesof various soils, measure evaporation, transpiration, orwatch capillary action at work. It is an unthinking personwho is not impressed as to the importance of conservationof precipitation after spending an hour pushing buttons,listening to brief recorded lectures, and reading descriptivesigns along Water Street.Another special feature of the Arizona-Sonora DesertMuseum is its famed Wildlife Blind where photographersgather at night to film the desert animals that come to thenearby waterhole. Use of the blind, with its strobonar

M U S E U M G R O U N D S A R E S E T I N S P E C T AC UL AR S A G U A R O FO R E S T [ >

lights, is available to dues-paying members of the museum.Special, too, is the setting of the Arizona-Sonora DesertMu seum. It sits on the saguaro-studd ed slopes of theTucson Mo untain s, 15 miles west of Tuc son. Wh en Ivisited the museum recently huge clouds filled the sky,their shadows falling on palo verdes golden with bloom.From the porch of the museum's main exhibit building Icould look across the far-sweeping Avra Valley, acrossPapago Indian country, and to the dark blue mountains ofMexico, some 60 miles away.

It is appropriate that the eye can travel from the mu-seum's porch to the peaks of Mexico, for the museum-zoois an international project, covering the entire SonoranDesert, part of which lies in Arizona and part in theMexican state of Sonora.William Wo odin, Director, explains: "This inter-national aspect of our museum is another unique thingabout us. Real and friendly cooperation has been carriedon between American and Mexican governmental agenciesfor the past seven years, though there is nothing officialabout our international relationship."Many of the plants and animals and birds here have


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T H E D E S E R T AR Kf - p r o j e c t of t h eA r i z o n a - S o n o r a D e s e r t M u s e u m

Photographs by BOB and.MARGE RIDDELLHal Gras is public relations director of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Mu-seum. Part of his job involves the care, conditioning and exhibiting of theDesert Ark's wild animal troupe. He takes his animals to three Tucsontelevision appearances weekly, and to the Museum each Sunday afternoon.In addition, Hal appears in about 200 school programs a year.In their work, Hal and Natie Gras do not consider the wild animals asbeing "tam ed." They are "conditioned" through love, respect and g entlecar e an d handl ing. They accustom the anim als to being firmly but gentlyhand led. Onc e a wild anima l loses respect for a huma n, it is no longertrustworthy. Hal is convinced that his succes s with the Ark's star performersis due to the many hours of loving care Natie gives them at the Nursery;

FALINE, WHITE TAIL FAWN, R ECEIVES THE GENTLEATTENT ION OF A GROUP OF SCHOOL CHILDREN

C o n t i n u e d [ )


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A r k(continued from preceding page)Upper Left: Hal Gras feeds marsh- Upper Right: "Diablo," two-week-olmallow to the Desert Ark's pet skunk bobc at, g ets m ilk from eye dro pp eTowel protects against sharp clawLeft: Natie Gras gives a barn owlnamed "No-No" tidbit of fresh meat Opposite pag e: 5-month-old mountalion shows off for Nursery visitoLower Left: Jean Gras, 13, gentlyhan dles a b aby bird. In time Ark's Lower Right: "B-B," the busy badgewild birds becom e tam e as can aries , pre par es to visit a nea rby schoo


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A r iz o n z - S o n o r a D e s e r t A r k ...(continued from preceding page)

Studying the great Sonoran Desert's animal life is an enjoyable part of the Museum's variedprogram, a s the photo ab ove showsbu t only a part. Sharing the stage with the Desert Ark,Water Street, Tunnel Exposition, Aquarium a nd M useum Zoo is a n arboretum of S onoranplantlife, for the Mu seum is located in a vast and land scap ed garde n. "Cactus John" H aa gof Tucson tends these bizarre plantings. His story a ppears on the fol lowing pa ge s.


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U\ / R. HAAG?" I in-l y l quired as I came* * along the path andstopped a few feet fromwhere a man was bendingover a cactus plant.It was mid-morning andthe summer sun beat down on Tucson

with relentless vigor. But the mandidn't notice the heat or me. Iwatched while, with bare hands, hetook a piece of cactus that had brokenoff a main stem and gently nuzzled itinto the sandy earth until it stoodalone. Then he straightened up, nod-ding contentedly."Mr. Haag?" I repeated.This time he heard. He turned andin a soft voice with just the hint of aGerman accent, said, "Everybodycalls me Cactus John." Then hesmiled, held out his hand and I knewwe would be friends."I've come," I explained, "hopingyou'll show me your fabulous garden.I've been told it's the most magnificentcactus collection in Arizona."His smile broadened and he wavedhis hand to indicate a half acre ofplanting, "I've got almost two thou-sand specimens here."As I looked around I saw manydesert friends saguaro, ocotillo,

prickly pear and others, but there werehundreds of strangers, too. It was animpressive sight."How did you ever acquire so manyin the three years you've lived here?""I brought a thousand of them withme from Minnesota."It was my turn to smile. "Isn't thatsort of like bringing 'coals to New-castle'?""No indeed!" Cactus John grewserious. "This garden represents theentire cactus and succulent world. Ihave plants from Mexico, CentralAmerica and as far away as Chile.Only a small percent are native to theSouthwest.""No wonder you won the GoldMedal Certificate at the InternationalFlower Show in New York with yourcacti display. Or," I looked at himquestioningly, "should I say,cactuses?"As I spoke I studied my host. Hewasn't tall, he wasn't stout, he wasn'tyoung. On the other hand he wasn'tshort, nor thin, nor old. "Just a verynice average person," I thought.Which only proved how little I knewCactus John.His answer showed that quality of

C A C T U SJ O H N "H A A G

By PHYLLIS W. HEALD

part of the man."I always try tosa y ' c a c t u splants'. It avoidstrouble."As we slowlyw a n d e r e dthrough the fan-tastic, fascinatingworld of Cacta-ceae its owner told me a little abouthimself."I was born in Norwood, Minne-sota in 1907," he started. Then inter-rupted his story, "Be careful! Don'tbrush against that Spachinaus. It'llhurt!" He looked at it and frowned."It's too near the walk. I suppose Ishould move it. But I hate toit'sdoing so well."I watched his expression change ashe studied the tall, spiky plant thatresembles an Organ Pipe. His frownfaded and his face lighted with some-thing deeper than pride. I decided itwas love.John Haag's background is Ger-man. It was while reading his grand-father's German botanical books that,as a boy of twelve, he first learned ofcactus."In those days nobody was inter-ested in them in our part of thecountry," he continued. "I did buy

a few of the common varieties at the5 & 10c store, but they died. I gavethem too much water.""You started your career as a bot-anist early, didn't you?"John Haag laughed. "Maybe Ishouldn't tellbut I flunked botanyin high school."Eventuallyhe moved toSt. Paul andthere, with the

public library,University andother facilitieshand, John A LO VE

tractive Clara Kunz, his interest incactus and succulents had become aconsuming hobby and he had the foun-dation of his comprehensive collection.It was unquestionably wise of JohnHaag to take up electrical engineeringas a profession and keep botany fora pastime pleasure to enjoy with his

wife in vacation hours. Thus he re-mained free to pursue the subject inhis own way. Clara loved the worldof Nature too, and joined enthusiastic-ally in his special hobby. Much of hisearly success with cactus growing,grafting and experimenta-tion is due to her.In 1937 Clara and Johnjoined the Cactus and Suc-culent Society of Americaand became life members.They never missed the bi-annual conventions andwere enthusiastic promot-ers of these affairs. OneChristmas they sent piggy-banks to ahundred cactus-minded friends withthe usual message of seasonal greetingsplus a P.S."Feed the Piggy for nextyear's Convention."

The cactus collection soon outgrewtheir home on Stryker Street in WestSt. Paul so John built a special glasshouse for it. Here he accumulatedthe greatest variety of cactuses eastof the Rockies with the exception ofthe famous Missouri Botanical Gar-dens of St. Louis. His greenhousebecame officially known as the CAC-TUS AND SUCCULENT CONSER-VATORY succulents being "waterstoring plants." It was always opento the public, there was no admissioncharge and nothing was ever sold, al-though many plants were given away.The Haag Conservatory became partof the experimental field for studentsof botany at the University of Minne-sota and John was an unofficial con-sultant to its Agricultural College inSt. Paul."Clara and I were always on thelookout for new and rare specimens,"John explained. "Our vacations be-came cactus hunting trips and wetraveled all over the Southwest anddown into Mexico. I don't like towrite but I must have composed hun-dreds of letters during those yearsbecause I was in corre-spondence with gardenclubs throughout theworld. Most of my con-tacts were with people in

wascloseable attocontinue his studies. By1930 , when he had


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the desert sections of South Amer-ica and Mexico and it was alwaysquite a job to get letters translated.Finally, in desperation, I went to nightschool and studied Spanish."That is why, today, John can dis-cuss on his favorite topic in English,

German. Spanish and, if you don'tstray from botany, he can go alongin Latin, too.His growing fame as a collectorand expert on cactus gave John op-portunity to lecture at numerous clubsand conventions. Eventually the St.Paul Broadcasting Company got himto appear on their Garden of Knowl-edge weekly program . It was therehe received his nickname and withina short time the quiet voice of CactusJohn got top rating from the listeningworld of the station.Along with his collection of desertplants. Cactus John commenced rais-ing that most glamorous flowertheorchid."It is not as strange as it seems tokeep orchids and cactus together," heexplained. "They vie with each otherfor floral beauty, the orchid is a waterstorer and it needs warmth the sameas cactus. The on ly difference is, itrequires moisture too. But humidityisn't hard to supply even in a drycou ntry . I had to sell my orchid p lants

when I came West, but as soon as Ifinish this garden, I'm going to builda greenhouse and start them again."Cactus John made such a successas an orchidist that he was invited tojoin the Orchid Society of HarvardBotanical Museum and is one of 60life members in an organization ofmore than 5000 people.It was only natural that the Haagsshould accumulate a fine specializedlibrary which now includes hundredsof books and magazines on the sub-

jects of cactus, succulents and orchids.Among its most enjoyable listings isthe file of Desert Magazine. Boundin bright red it covers, without abreak, the issues from Volume I tothe latest num ber. Some of the rarebooks are valued at $500 each andthe entire collection is insured for$ 500 0. Many of the editions couldnot be replaced at any price.Cactus John enjoys lending booksto those who are interested. He oftenbuys three or four of the same title so

as to have them ava ilable. His desireis to share his knowledge, his collec-T H O R N S

tions, his library with others, to stim-ulate interest and encourage peopleto conserve and protect the wondersof Nature.The Haags somehow found time tobe active Auduboners also. One yearCactus John made a hundred birdhouses and presented them to mem-bers in an effort to assist a project forincreasing the bluebird population.But there was a sad overtone inthose otherwise happy years. ClaraHaag's health had begun to fail. Fin-ally the doctors decided a warmer cli-mate might be the solution. So, earlyin 1956 John flew to Tucson, locatedan acre and quarter of property north

of town in the Casas Adobes Estates,and bought it. Abrick house wasunder construction.A f t e r i n d i c a t i n gminor changes he

CACTUS JO HN HANDLES THO RNY PLANTSWITHOUT GLOVES. HE BELIEVES "DIRTY"THUMBRATHER THAN A "GREEN" ONEIS IND ICAT IO N OF A GOO D GARDENER .

returned to St. Paul for his wife andcactus family."It took me four weeks just to pre-pare and pack those thousand plants,"he said. "It was one whale of a job!"Thus it wasn't until Fall that the1000 and two of them reached theirnew home La Casa de los Flares.Cactus John had intended to estab-lish himself in electrical engineeringbut the opportunity to join the Ari-zona-Sonora Desert Museum in thefield of botany was too great a temp-tation. Thus it is that five days of theweek he can be found guarding andgrowing native flora in that mostcharming setting at Tucson Moun-tain Park. In the meantime, at hishome he had started the greatest


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project of his careerturning his ownland into a veritable wonder-world ofcactus. To date it is only partiallycompleted for two years ago CactusJohn Haag lost the inspiration andcompanionship of his beloved wife.Clara Haag died on September 2,1957, and is buried at Holy HopeCemetery in Tucson.Alone he has continued his workbut the name La Casa de los Flores

TONE CACTUS - FASCINATING / \OVERLOOKED BY AMATEURS ' "

OF ITS PERFECT CAMOUFLAGE

has been changed and a neat sign atthe entrance to the grounds now readsEl Ja r din Botanico de Santa Clara.During our conversation we hadbeen sauntering along the paths ofthe garden. Stopping to study thecharming Bishop's Hat and gazing inawe at the giant Cordon."Why do you use so much rock?"1 asked. "I thought cactus grew bestin sand.""Rock adds interest and helps pre-serve moisture. These are all hand-picked from the arroyos around here.I've tried to scatter them more or lessnaturally and I like the color andlichens they support."

At every opportunity Cactus Johngoes specimen hunting. Rush trips toMexico, New Mexico, California,Texas, in fact any place where cactusgrows, is always on his agenda. Buteven in this important work of collect-ing rare plants which, incidentally, heusually grafts on others as the safestway of protecting them, he is a trueconservationist and never digs withoutgovernmental or personal permission.And then he only takes what is nec-essary. To bring findings out of Mex-ico he has an extended Governmentpermit "valid until revoked" which,oddly enough, comes from Hoboken,N.J., location of the Import & Permit

Section of the United States Depart-ment of Agriculture.Suddenly I stopped and pointed toa prickly pear some distance away.The petals of its bright yellow flowerwere disappearing like magic as atiny gopher, seated jauntily on thethorn-spiked leaf, devoured them.Cactus John sighed, "Those mon-keys destroy all my flowers! Theythink it's a salad!""Why don't you do somethingabout it?""I'm making some traps," he ex-plained.I should have known better, but Iasked, "Wouldn't it be easier to poi-son them?"Cactus John shook his head. "Iwouldn't kill them. What I'll do iscatch them then, on my way to themuseum, release them in the desert.I'm having trouble with rabbits, too,but a young coyote is helping me outnow. He comes every night andscares them away. He's getting tamerall the time. This morning I saw himvery close to the house." Cactus Johnsighed, "I hope nobody shoots him!If people only realized how essentialall these animals are to preserve thebalance of Nature! We human beingsare tremendously advanced in manyways but we live in the dark ageswhen it comes to natural history andconservation."Later, as we sat on the porch, Cac-tus John told me of the offer he hasmade the City of Tucson which, sofar, has not been accepted. It is bestexplained in his own wordsan openletter that appeared in the TucsonDaily Citizen on February 26, 1959.The heading reads, "Isn't TucsonEven Interested?" Then Cactus Johngoes on to say" . . . Maybe the Tucson area doesn'twant anything, even if it is free. Ihave offered to some Tucson clubsmy botanical garden. This includesa three year old house with meetingroom and library library completewith most books on desert plants andorchids; a garden of plants which in-cludes rare and near extinct specimens.Also I will keep on building, land-scaping and collecting free as long asI am able."In return, the following conditionsto be met: I will live here the rest ofmy life and develop it as I have forthe last three years; the name, ElJardin Botanico de Santa Clara, willnot be changed; the acre north of the

wash be purchased by the club, togive another area for parking so asnot to interfere or despoil our beautifularea . . ."When he had finished Cactus Johnshook his head sadly. "I have nochildren to leave this to. I can't under-

stand why Tucson doesn't want it!Phoenix will accept it gladly but thatmeans breaking up the garden. Be-sides, my wife is buried in Tucson, Iwould like to keep the memorial herefor her." He sighed as his eyes wan-dered over his precious cactus plantsthen lifted to the Santa CatalinaMountains in the distance. There wasno bitterness in his voice, only amaze-ment, as he murmured, "It is strange!Very s t range!"END

By BENN KELLER, ManagerFord Desert Proving GroundsKingman, Arizona -Refrigerated AirConditionersRefrigerated air conditioning sys-tems are a very definite asset to com-fortable fatigue-free driving in theSouthwest. They are, however, ratherexpensive and of course, are by nomeans an absolute necessity. Thefactory installed type is usuallypreferable to the so called "hang-on"type because the refrigerated air maybe directed to more desirable loca-tions within the car body. Additionalinsulation is added and no obstruc-tion is offered to the front seat pas-sengers. The ability to produce re-frigerated air is usually comparableon both types.Th e low cost, evaporated typecooler, usually fitted to a front win-dow, does offer some relief from des-ert heat, but simply does not havenear the capabilities of the refriger-ated type. They are ineffective unlessthe humidity is quite low, and watermust be added at quite frequent in-tervals.When the refrigerated type of airconditioning systems are factory in-stalled, the factory usually providesa radiator core of increased capacityto compensate for the condensermounted ahead of the radiator core,and a cooling fan of increased ca-pacity to make the air conditioningmore effective at city traffic speeds.A radiator pressure cap of highercapacity is sometimes provided toraise the boiling point of the enginecoolant. Usually these provisions arenot made with "hang-on" type instal-lation. This could result in prematureheating of the engine and loss in effi-ciency of the air conditioning system.Refrigerated air conditioning sys-tems of acceptable types permit theoccupants of the vehicle to drive in apleasantly comfortable atmospherewith their windows rolled up, com-pletely devoid of the aggravatingnoise of onrushing air and the quicktemper and orneriness usually asso-ciated with uncomfortably high in-terior car body temperatures. Airconditioners would well be classedas a safety item because they greatlyrelieve driver fatigue and are anti-sleep inducing.


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L e g e n d a r y P e c o s - ' V i l l a g eL o f 5 0 0 W ar r ior s

By JAMES ABARRSCALE MODEL OF MISSION SENORA DELOS ANGELES DE POR CIUNCULA, BUILTAT PECOS THREE CENTURIES AGO BYTHE SPANIARD S. CONVE NTO IS RIGHTOF CHURCH. ONLY RUINS REMAIN.

STANDING ON A small rocky ridge on the southernslope of New Mexico's lofty Sangre de Cristo Moun-tains, we could see the time-ravaged ruins of legendaryCicuye below. Better known by its mo dern nam e of Pecos,this sprawling village was once the largest pueblo in theSouthw esta great trade and cultural center. M ore than200 0 Tewa Indians lived here during Peco s' zenith. Itslocation on the eastern frontier of the Pueblo country putthe inhabitants in close touch w ith Plains tribes. Co ma n-ches, Kiowas, Cheyennes and Apaches came here often toexchange goods andunintentionallytribal customs andphilosophies. Pecos became a melting pot of Indian na-tions; life was good and the people prospered.My wife and I were captured by the magnificent pano-rama tha t lay before us. The ruins of the village, domin-ated by red adobe walls of a Spanish mission, extend fora quarter of a mile along the edge of the mesa.Beyond slumbering Pecos is the fertile valley carved bythe winding Pecos River. Thick clumps of cottonw oodsmark the river's course through fields once farmed bystone-age people. On the west side of the valley towerspinyon-covered Pecos Mesa, its green foliage lending sharpcontrast to red soil. To the no rth are forested slopes ofpine, spruce and fir leading to the soaring 12,000-footpeaks of the Sangre de Cristos.We studied the wind-blown hummocks and the crum-bling walls and tried to picture the pueblo as it appearedat the height of its pow er and prestige. Ped ro de C asta-

neda, chronicler of the Coronado expedition, describedthe fortified city more than 400 years ago. He told of thegreat four-storied community houses surrounded by a stonewall; of a fierce and primitive people hostile to strangers"a village of 500 warriors who are feared throughout thecount ry."

Francisco Vasquez de Coronado was the first conquis-tador to see Peco s. He cam ped here with his army in1 5 4 1 , and it was from Pecos that the famed explorerlaunched his expedition to the plains of Kansas in searchof the fabled treasure of Quivira.M r s . Vivian O'Neal, superintendent of Pecos StateMonument for the past two yearsand treasuring everymoment of this experience, accompanied us on our tourof the ancient village.An ardent student of Southwest history and archeology,M r s . O'Neal often visited here before she became superin-tendent. "I've always had a great attachm ent for Pecos,"she told us. "It 's a very special place to me . I used towander through the ruins thinking of what it must have

been like so many years ago. I suppose I'm a rom anticistat heart ."M r s . O'Neal enjoys meeting people. Last year shewelcomed more than 1 1,000 visitors to Peco s. "I've m etpeop le here from all over the wo rld," she said. "I alwaysenjoy explaining the monum ent. I want them to feel theirvisit has been worthw hile. I don 't want them to regardPecos as just a pile of stone. I want them to share theromance and beauty of this ancient city."We followed the narrow p ath through the ruins. Pecoshad been a poorly constructed com mun ity. Stones in thewalls of dwellings were of a dozen different sizes, roughand poorly fitted in uneven rows, giving the impressionthe builders had been in a hurry to complete their work.These people may have excelled as traders and warriors,but they were short on building skill.Archeologists have excavated only a portion of theruins. Mu ch of the pueblo still lies buried beneath the redsoil of the mesa.At one point, six levels of buildings were uncovered,


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STONE FIGURE OF A MAN UNEARTHED IN THE PECOS PUEBLORUINS. SUCH IDOLS ARE REGARDED AS RARE FINDS IN THE SOUTH-WEST! THE IMAGE PROBABLY HAD CEREMONIAL SIGNIFICANCE.

an indication of both long occupation and poor construc-tion. As one unit fell into ruin the people merely builtanother on top of it. First structures at Pecos were builtabout 1250 A.D.

Large refuse piles, some of them 20 feet deep, haveyielded many artifactspottery, lavishly decorated claypipes, tools, weapons and household items. Small clay andstone figurines of birds, animals and even humans alsohave been found. These are rare finds in Southwesternruins.Only the thick fortress-like walls of the main sanctuaryremain of the mission which the Spaniards called NuestraSenora de Los Angeles de Porciuncula. The church, tower-ing high above the other village ruins, was a well-knownlandmark for travelers on the Santa Fe Trail which paral-lels the route of modern U.S. Highway 85, two miles south.Franciscan friars apparently erected three churches atPecos. One, called the "Lost Church," was built about1600. Only bare outlines in the earth remain. The secondmission, built about 1617, was destroyed in the PuebloRebellion of 1680 and its priest, Fray Fernando de Velasco,slain. In the early 1700s, the present church was builtover the ruins of the old.We walked through the wide gap in the front wallwhere mission doors once admitted Indian worshipperswilling to offer prayers to the white man's God, but intheir hearts still worshipping their own gods of Nature.Through here, too, entered Spanish soldiers and noblemen,following the faith learned in the great cathedrals of Aragonand Castile.Inside the sanctuary the walls glowed dull red underthe bright afternoon sun streaming into the roofless build-ing. Nothing remains of the altar, choir loft or baptistry.We found only an adobe shell surrounding a bare earthenfloor. The old frontier church is slowly crumbling intothe red New Mexico earth from which it sprang.

Somewhere in the unexcavated portions of the pueblo,archeologists may find the remnants of the oldest missionin the United States. Fray Luis de Escalona, a Franciscanpadre with the Coronado expedition, remained at Pecosas a missionary in 1542 after Coronado and his armyreturned to Mexico City. Fray Luis was never heard fromagain and it is probable he was killed by the Indians

Visitors are discovering Pecosonce a stra-tegic trade center in the Pueblo-Plains wor ld .before the end of the year. It is also likely he built a crudechapel in which to conduct services.North of the mission ruins stand the remains of Pecos'two large community houses. Once they were four storieshigh and each contained over 500 rooms, but today onlybroken walls of the lower stories remain. The rooms weresmall and appeared cramped, but the Pecos people werean outdoor race. They only used their terraced dwellingsas sleeping quarters or as a fortress when the village wasunder attack. Some areas were used for storage space.Most activities took the people outside the communityhouses.

Numerous kivas dotted the central plaza of the pueblo.Only a few of these subterranean ceremonial chambers, thenerve centers of pueblo life, have been excavated. The kivawas the warrior's "club room," a place where he joinedhis friends to smoke his pipe and discuss events of theday. Women were rarely allowed to enter.More important, the kiva was a place of worship to

Indian deities, and it was a council chamber where villageleaders, seated about the central fire, decided tribal policies.Laws, treaties and decisions for war or peace emanatedfrom the kiva depths.We stood on the edge of the largest kiva, 10 feet deepand 40 feet in diameter. Perhaps this was the chamber


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of the ancient Pecos legend which tells of the snake godand the sacred fire.Like most pueblo people, the inhabitants of Pecosregarded the snake as a highly beneficial deity. The legendrelates how a giant snake was kept in a kiva for manycenturies and was fed by human sacrifice. A sacred fire,always attended by two warriors, was kept burning onthe central altar. A prophecy foretold that if the sacredfire were allowed to die, the snake god would desert thekiva and the village would perish.Then Spanish friars cast the shadow of the Cross across

Nonetheless, rnany legends of lost gold surround thePecos Valley. Two of these recount the treasure of Mon-tezuma and La Mina Perdida (The Lost Mine).Montezuma's treasure is a fabulous cache of gold andsilver supposedly buried beneath a huge boulder some-where near the pueblo. The story relates that every resi-dent of Pecos knew the hiding place but was sworn tosecrecy under pain of death.La Mina Perdida was a rich Spanish gold strike some-

where in the mountains north of the pueblo. During theRebellion of 1680, Spaniards working the mine fled.

Pecos and its ancient ways. Christian teachings gained afoothold and the people drifted from their pagan rites.One day the sacred fire flickered out. The angry snakegod crawled from the kiva and on to the Rio Grandewhich he followed to the Gulf of Mexico where he disap-peared. This, the legend says, marked the fall of Pecos.History, however, holds little regard for Tewa mythol-ogy. Actually, Pecos died a lingering death. The pueblo'sprosperity declined rapidly in the 1700s as trade washalted by a series of wars with the superior Comanchesand Apaches. Drained of its young men, the pueblo be-came easy prey for its enemies. Plagues of mountain feverand other diseases took their toll. By 1800, the communi-ty's population had declined to 100. In 1838 the last 17inhabitants abandoned the village and moved to JemezPueblo, 50 miles to the west, where the last Pecos residentdied in 1901.

Visitors often ask Mrs. O'Neal if there is buried treas-ure at Pecos. Her answer is always an emphatic, "No!""By our standards they were poor people," she ex-plained. "They had no gold or silver that we know of.There was some mining in this area in Spanish days, butI doubt any treasure was buried here."

PECOS TODAY. THESE RUINS ARE OF MISSION C H U R C H , NUESTRASENORA DE LOS ANGELES DE PORCI UNCULA. IN FOREGROUNDAR E REMAINS OF STONE WALL THAT ENCLOSED THE CHURCHA N D PECOS P U E B L O . THE WALL PROBABLY WAS 10 FEET H I G H .

Loaded down with ore, they were easily caught by pursuingIndians and slain. With them died the secret of the mine'slocation.Pecos Monument is open throughout the year. It iseasily reached by paved secondary road from U.S. 85.There is a small picnic area, but no camping facilities.Overnight accommodations are available in the nearbymountain community of Pecos or in Santa Fe, 27 milesnorthwest.On occasion, descendants of Pecos Indians come tosee the home of their ancestors."They have a deep reverence for the ruins," Mrs.

O'Neal said. "Usually, they walk through the pueblo incomplete silence. I often wonder how they feel about whatthey see here, but they won't discuss it."I believe I can understand this," she continued. "Pecosis not a tourist attraction to them. Rather, it is a monu-ment to the Golden Age of their people. It is their sacredshr ine ."END


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P a r t I I I N E E D L E S 1 9 0 4 - 1 9 0 6B y HARRISON DOYLE

N EEDLES IN 1904 was a railroadtown first, although mining andprospecting came a close second.Night or day, I knew what was go-ing on in the extensive Santa Fe Yards,by the clanking and puffing yard en-gines as the trains were switched andassembled, and by the distinctivehomecoming whistle signals made bythe locomotive engineers. There wasalways the friendly smell of the oilburning engines in the air, mixed withthe peculiar earthy fragrance of thealways humid Colorado River bottom-lands.

They were peaceful sounds, andhealthy smells in a peaceful time, bothsounds and smells evidence of the waya town sweats beneficially to live. Notonly were they peaceful days, theywere never - to - be - forgotten, golden,warm days.

Rees' Drugstore by now had a new-fangled "His Master's Voice" disctalking machine, playing "Bedelia"and "Meet Me in St. Louis, Louis."Almost any evening you could chanceupon a little group in the quiet moon-light singing "My Gal Sal" or "Wait'Til the Sun Shines, Nellie." It wasthat era of age-lasting melodies whenquartettes rendered deep harmony with"The Good Old Summertime," "TheRosary," or "Sweet Kentucky Babe."One day Dr. James Booth asked meif I'd like to usher at the Opera House.He would give me a half dozen com-plimentary tickets. It was fine with me.

The Booths were related to the fa-

/l . . . we kids used to visit the\ -l Needles Landing, and watch theSearchlight, last of the larger riverstern-wheelers, tie up on its regulartrips up-river from Yuma. I had afair speaking acquaintance with itswhite haired Captain, Jack Mellen,who had been on the river for some30 years. I remember feeling quitesorry for him because the little 90-foot Searchlight was such a comedown for him after having captained,for so many years, the big two-stacker,Mohave No. 2.

mous theatrical Booths. Booth's hairhad long since turned to silver and hewore it fairly long. He was an M.D.,had been Sheriff of the county, and,in his youth, a Shakespearean actorof note. They lived on the Silt Flats,near where the Indians held theircolorful pony races, about halfway tothe Needles Landing.

That night the play was "EastLynne." I reported for duty in a sortof ominous quiet, ushered people totheir seats, feeling pretty good aboutmy new job. When the show wasover, I stepped out the front doorinto the moonlight and found myselfin a ring of angry boys.One of them said, "What did youwant to take our jobs for?" Anotherpunched me in the nose. The ominousquiet was explained. The ushers wereon strike for money instead of tickets.Labor Troubles

There was a quick pow-wow, andit was agreed that because of my size,I was to fight two of the smaller boys.We squared off. One of the boys gotbehind me and jumped on my back,making the mistake of not ' pinningmy arm. I caught the boy in frontflush on the chin with a roundhouseleft, and for him the fight was over.I bucked the other off my back, andhe ran.When I explained that the strikewas news to me, things became har-monious again, and they took me intothe clique. But the ushering jobplayed out shortly afterwards. TheOpera House burned down.

Needles was never a lawless town.Law enforcement officers generally hadan easy time. Once in a while some-one from the Track Repair crew gotdrunk. The Indians gave no trouble;they had their own tribal "police,"and were not allowed to purchaseliquor. There was a stiff fine if anyonebought it for them. Peace officer atthe time was Johnny Medlin, and later,George Acunha. Both were old-timers.Wyatt Earp was a frequent visitor.He was mining at the time. Dad hadknown him in Tombstone. Wyatt hadthe most direct turquoise-blue eyesI've ever seen. He was a relaxed,quiet man, medium sized, wore a"telescoped" flat-topped black felt hatand a big handle-bar moustache.

About the middle of June each yearthe river rose because of the tremen-dous snow run-off in the Rockies. Thisrising was accompanied by muchchanging of the main channels. A lotof driftwood came down with thefloods. One year Monaghan & Mur-phy made a deal with the Indianswhereby the Indians gathered the drift-wood, sawed it up, and delivered itabout town. M.&M. took orders forit, received payment, and split theprofits with the Indians. This neatarrangement held good for severalyears. Everybody was seemingly happywith the deal, including the Indians.In those days there were no damsup-river to hold the summer run-offin check, and consequently littleranching was attempted. Nothingcould stand the floods which spread

ABOY'sEYEVIEWof theWILDWEST


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out yearly over some six or sevenmiles across the valley. A few exce p-tions were the three acres Billy andCharley Lamar had close-in behindthe Roundhouse, that were partlyplanted to flame tokay grapes. Thelittle plot was bordered by big cotton-woods. The grapes were unbeliev-ably large and sweet, many over threeinches long, hanging in two-foot longclusters.

One day Charley Lamar showedme a little two-cylinder gas engineboat he had brought out from LosAngeles. He had it parked und er thecottonwo ods. No one could mak e theengine fire a shot, and everybody toldhim, anyway, it would never buck theswift river current if he did get it tostart. Charley knew I was taking acorrespondence course in electricityand had a little experimental shop.He asked me to see if I could get theengine started.It so happened that I was tinkeringwith make-and-break spark and hightension coils at the time, and I had ahunch that if no one had been ableto get a shot out of the boat engine,the wires must have been connectedto the wrong cylinders. I reversedthem, and as I had anticipated, afterI cranked the engine once, it took offlike a house afire.

A River FirstWe carted the little boat over to the

river, and to the amazement of theIndians, it bucked the current nicely,and that's how I got a ride in the firstgasoline driven small boat put on theColorado River.Every week or so some of the boysand myself trudged through the Mo-have Village to fish at the NeedlesLand ing. I early learned how to catchbig carp, Indian fashion, without hooksor lines. We'd get some hay chaffand spread it about half an inch thickin a quiet eddy. Within minutes adozen fish would be under the chaff

nibbling and making little ripples withtheir noses, blind to what was goingon above them . With a quick strokeof our hands and arms, we'd flip thesurprised fish out onto the bank.Ducks and geese were always plen-tiful along the river and on the milesof sloughs. Sometimes we'd go acrossthe river on Sweeney's Ferry, whichthen consisted of a rowboat and BillSweeney's two strong arms, and hikethrough the green and gold thicketsabout four miles to Spear's Lake. We'dshoot geese, mallard, teal, butter-ball,and canvas-back ducks. There werethousands of quail in the thickets,especially where the mesquites werethick. Mo rning and evening we couldalways be sure of hearing from every

direction their universal call, "Ca-cah'-ca-ca, ca-cah'-ca-ca."On one such trip I almost got killedby a goose . I was all alone , sittingin the stern of a little skiff at the lowerend of the lake, when a big flock ofgeese came flying low, toward m e. Istood up and let go with my ancientdouble-barrelled hammer shotgun.Goose ' s RevengeSomething hit me and knocked mecold. I came to, I don't know howlong afterwards, my body under waterexcept for my head, which was restingon a driftwood snag. There was a bigdead goose in the boat. For a while,I was sure my neck was broken, andit hurt me to breathe.

I lay on the bank awhile, then feel-ing better, picked up the 11-poundgoose and started home. Next day thewhole side of my head and neck wasblack and blue.Dad rubbed it in. "I thought I taughtyou better than that," he remarked."If the goose had hit you anywhereelse except on the head, it would havekilled you!"When it was too hot to cook on

HARRISON DOYLE IN THE SUMMER OF 1904the big wood stove, we'd sometimeseat at one of the two Chinese restaur-ants. They had red and white checker-board tablecloths, two-bit meals, bowlsof marble-sized soup crackers, a san-dal-wood smell, and a continual streamof new young Chinese waiters, whosneaked up the river from Mexico.

There were two Chinese funeralswhile I was there. Man y of the towns-people attended the funerals out ofcuriosity. The bereaved, amidst burn-ing punks and stringy bits of paper

prayers, placed steaming foods aroundthe graves to sustain the deceased onhis long journey to his celestial para-dise. On one occasion, I rememberthere was a suckling pig, still warm,on a big, white platter. When every-one left, two hobos sat down and atetheir fill.The spring of 1905 I was in the10th Grade in the little red rock schoolon the mesa above town. There wereless than a dozen students in the HighSchool end of the building. Acrossthe aisle from me, in the 11th, wasBirdie Ray , statuesque dark - eyedblonde sister of Charles Ray, the wellknown movie star of silent days. Someof the other schoolmates I rememberwere Irene Cubbage, Mabel Snyder,Lolita Clark and her brother, Jim,who was in the 12th Grad e. Principalwas Charles Lincoln Williams.

In May when it began getting hot,Mr. Williams donated "pink" lemon-ade, the pink coming from crushedstrawberries. Th e boys took turns go-ing down to the car icing plant toretrieve chunks of ice that had fallenoff the cars. Du ring recess, we hikedup the mahogany-colored mesas be-hind the school and dug out old piecesof pottery shards and arrowheads fromthe washes between the mesas.

Godshal l Smel terThere was a fair-sized smelter witha tall stack on a side track over behind

the Mohave Village, headed by a Dr.Godshall. When they smelted copperores it sent up clouds of green smokewhich smelled of sulph ur. I workedthere in spare time as assistant to theAssayer, Ralph Hall. I ground sam-ples on the bucking board, and didodd jobs. Ralph later became prom-inent along the Mother Lode, and wasfor many years the Mineral Expert forth e Los A ngeles Times.In 1906, I saw the old rusty-redwooden Harvey House and Depot burndown . Mo st of the night girls who

were off shift were asleep upstairs inthe hotel end of the long building, andthey had to jump off the second storyporch because the only stairway wasan inside one, and flaming like a blow-torch.There were no ladders near enoughto be of any use before it was all over.One of the girls stood on the porchin a flimsy white nightgown andshrieked until the fire got so hot shehad to jum p. Some of the men pres-ent ripped up a corrugated iron fencenearby, and using sheets of it as shields

ran into the tremendous heat, andcarried the girls to safety.Monaghan & Mu rphy's, and Briggs'Saloon, across the street some two-

Continued on page 33


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Ila McAfee. . . artist who capturedthe motion and graceof animal life

BY W. THETFORD LeVINESSV ISITORS TO Ila McAfee's White Horse Studio inTaos, New Mexico, are invariably impressed withthe tremendous sense of order about the place. Paint-ings are stacked three- to five-deep around the living-roomwalls in neat arrangements; paints and brushes are on anobscure corner-table when not in use. The home is com-fortably furnished and attractively decorated, and theartist lives according to a fairly definite daily and weeklyschedulewith her husband and Sanka, their trick-doingSiamese cat.This sense of order shows up in Miss McAfee's workthere's an intriguing balance to most of it. Her animal

paintings, for instance, have strikingly accurate detail, yetenough abstraction to give freshness and vitality. Some-times her horses are not visible at first glanceas in "TheStampede of the Waves." This piece has mystic qualityhorses are formed in the foam pattern of breaking waves.

Only a secondand more studiedlook brings them tolight. Evident throughout all Miss McAfee's work is per-spective and feeling for proportion. Somehow these at-tributes seem uniquely hers.Ila McAfee is famous for her paintings of large quad-rupedsand horses are her specialty. Besides doing maga-zine covers, she designs fabrics and holds occasional "one-man" shows of her canvases. Nearly always, her work hasan animal motif. While horses are an overwhelming favor-

ite with her, she paints with equal facility cattle on therange or in driven herds, deer and mountain lions in highsnow-capped elevations, and homey scenes of Sanka inthe differing moods of a much-loved feline personality.Miss McAfee is the wife of Elmer Page Turner, a notedpainter of landscapes until ill health forced his retirementseveral years ago. The Turners' home and studio is in theheart of the Taos art center; they built it soon after theymoved there in the late 1920s.Both the Turners are from Colorado. Ila was bornnear Gunnison in 1900. Elmer, a native of Wyoming,moved to Greeley at the age of nine. They met in Chicagowhere they were students of the well-known muralist, JamesE. McBurney. They assisted McBurney with his murals,

and Ila often recalls how pleasant this was."It was wonderful training and a most enjoyable ex-perience," she says. "Elmer painted trees and skies, andI did Indian horses and ox teams for historical subjects."Ila and Elmer were married at her father's ranch inthe foothills of the Cochetopas in 1926, shortly before they"discovered" Taos. Elmer was the first to win acclaim,with a cover painting for a 1927 issue of a national newsmagazine. He took first prize for landscapes with his "RioGrande" at the 17th annual Arizona State Fair at Phoenixin 1931. In 1938 his rendition of "Chimayo, New Mex-ico" (a weaving settlement in the Sangre de Cristo Moun-tains near Santa Fe) was placed in the Denver Art Museum.A gradual paralysis has prevented him from active partici-

pation in painting for the past 20 years or so. His nowprominent wife has cared for him personally all this time.She does all the correspondence, driving, marketing andother chores, including cookingthe Turners are vege-tarians. Between the activities of everyday living, how-ever, there are many hours devoted to painting. Miss Mc-Afee is a charming hostess, and many people drop in herstudioto buy paintings, to chat about the weather, orto watch the trained cat perform. Elmer continues to takean absorbing interest in art, and to this day he titles hiswife's paintingsoften having a name ready by the timethe picture is finished.Ila McAfeeshe always signs her works thushastaken honors in painting too. As early as the 1930s she

was recognized as one of the foremost painters of horsesin America, and was assigned to do several postofficemurals in the West. One of these is at Gunnison, Colorado,where she had attended high school and received her firstart training at the Colorado State Normal School (nowWestern Colorado State College). She enjoyed doing theGunnison postoffice mural as a sort of "home town tribute";it is one of her best range scenes, and her husband namedit "The Wealth of the West." She did all her murals inpanels at home, and then went to the various communitiesto oversee their installation.She painted and exhibited even during World War II.Her painting of mountain deer at dinner in deep snow,"Midwinter Meal," was first shown at the Springville, Utah,

show in 1942. She has had an exhibition at Springvilleevery year since, and for the past 20 years has shown atCedar City, Utah, as well. In addition, she has had a one-man show at Cedar City.She has designed fabrics for Howard & Schaffer, a New


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York textile firm. The design, taken from one of herloveliest paintings, "The Four Seasons," has appeared ineight different color schemes and was used as a cover andcenter spread in a book by Walter Foster, How to DrawHorses. She has illustrated two other animal publications,The Furry Folk Book and Tales of the King's Horses.

The Turners enjoy a quiet home life with their cat, andtheir living room is a rendezvous for much cultural activityin Taos. The art center there attracts nationally and inter-nationally famous personalities constantly, and the Turnersget their share of the "tourist market." Visitors to theWhite Horse Studio marvel at the "McAfee mobiles"several groups of hand-painted horses which dangle fromtwigs in rotating motion near the ceiling. The effect isthree-dimensional, as of several "miniature merry-go-

'rounds" swirling into one another, each group marking itsown spatial identity.Sanka performs for any who visit the Turner home andwish to see her. Her bag of tricks includes curling up in abasket, walking a pole, jumping through hoops, playinga toy piano and guitar, and even playing checkers. Shecan pull a small wagon across the room, walk atop cone-shaped milk bottles, and turn completely around on theend of her "scratching pole"only two inches in diameterand with room for only three paws. After each perform-ance, which run anywhere from 50 to 75 stunts, Sankatakes up a collectionfor the local Presbyterian church.If those in the audience have enjoyed the tricks, they placecoins on top of a little box with a slot in it. Sanka's grandfinale comes as she carefully pushes each coin into theslot with her trained forepaws.END

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L O S T A R S E N A L O F T H E P A P A G O S

V ' v; "> . * ^ r ; ; > A - 3

ERODED MOUNTAINS NORTHWEST OF SANTA ROSA V ILLAGE

By BERNARD L FON TA N A

H IDDEN IN THE shadow of anunnamed mountain range onthe Papago Indian Reservationin southern Arizona, may be a fan-tastic hidden treasure. It is not gold,nor precious stones. It is not oldcur-rency cached by highwaymen, nor isit a lost mission. Instead, lying amongthe ruins of an adobe building previ-ously seen byonly onewhite man, isan arsenal of ancient Spanish andAmerican weapons that would surpassanything even themost avid gun col-lector has on hiswalls.According to W. E. Bancroft, whocame to Arizona via New Mexico in1 8 7 4 , this Papago Indian arms store-house contained, "OldQueen Anns,old Yawgers, old Hawkins, all kindsof old flint-locks, both shotguns and

rifles, and on the walls were hung atleast 100 different makes of pistols.There must have been at least 1000!"Prospecting and mining were thejobs that occupied Bancroft most ofhis working life. In 1882 he locatedseveral claims near Covered Wells,today a Papago Reservation villageabout 50 miles south of Casa Grande.Bancroft said he found the guncacheon one of his many prospecting tripsbetween Casa Grande and CoveredWells. On the actual discovery trek

he was passing through the Santa RosaValley on hisway south to hisclaims,when he noticed some odd-lookingrock formations several miles to thewest. Hedecided to inspect the prom-ising mineral area, and several dayslater, while climbing in among the out-crop, spotted a rectangular adobebuilding. It was well-roofed, about40 to 50 feet long and 15 to 25 feetwide. The only entrance was a three-foot-square hole inone wall. This wasplugged with loose rocks and adobe.Bancroft was a prospectorcurios-ity was inbred in hisnature. After re-moving thematerial from thedoor, hecrawled into thebuilding."There was thegreatest sight I eversaw before or since," he later wrote." I had broken into the Papago Indi-

a n s ' arsenal and,believe me or not,just asyou please, I saw guns in therethat I think Cortez had when he in-vaded Mexico orCoronado might havebrought them to this country, and theyhad every kind of a gun that had beenmade." Rows of forked sticks sup-ported theguns so that none touchedthe ground. The pistols hung fromwooden pegs driven into thewalls.While Bancroft was feasting his eyeson the gu ns, two Papago s, investigatingthe disturbed entryway, trapped him

in thebuilding. Luckily, theprospec-tor knew the Indians, or his trespassmight have earned him a violent death.Bancroft was acquainted with thefamous Arizonan, John D. Walker,at this time operating the rich Vekol

Mine in thePapago country. T wo orthree days after inspecting thearsenal,Bancroft mentioned the incident toWalker. The mine operator, who couldspeak Papago and who knew thosetribesmen much better than did Ban-croft, openly doubted the story. But,an old Papago, whohappened to bein thestore where the two white menwere talking, said that Bancroft's ar-senal did, in fact, exist.Walker apologized to his friend forhaving doubted him, adding, "Youmust lead a charmed life. If any other

white man ever got in there, he didn'tlive to tell about it. I'veheard aboutsuch a place for a long time andhaveasked several Indians to take me there.But none of them will ." And remem-berWalker, who had a Pima wife,was probably one of the best knownand most respected white men of thatda y in the Pima-Papago terr i tory.In 1926 43 years after his oneand only visit to thegun cacheBan-croft wrote a newspaper account sug-gesting that the State of Arizona or

Only onewhite man saw the fabulous guncache in the lonely Papago Reservation . . .but that was years ago, and today noteven the Indians remember thearsenal's location


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pASAGRANDE

the Arizona Pioneers' Historical So-ciety negotiate to buy the weaponsfrom the Papagos, for display in amuseum. He even offered to relocatethe building. Apparently no one wasinterestedor perhaps no one believedhim. W. E. Bancroft, respected Ari-zona pioneer, died several years later,taking his secret to his grave.My work as an anthropologist oftentakes me over the Santa Rosa Valleyroad that Bancroft followed. I've madequick checks of many "odd looking

rock formations" to the west of thisroute. I've asked a few Papagos whatthey knew about an old arsenal, butso far have drawn a blank. Nothingresembling Bancroft's adobe building,including ruins of what might havebeen such a structure, have come tomy attention.Was Bancroft a liar? Not neces-sarily. Papagos have been in contactwith non-Indians since at least the late1600s. In 1751, the Papagos andPimas joined in a general uprisingagainst the Spaniards, and it is a cer-

tainty many weapons fell into the Red-men's hands during these skirmishes.Throughout the 1800s, these "peace-ful" Indians carried on sporadic war-fare against Spaniards and Mexicans,taking horses and cattle. In the lasthalf of the 19th Century, Papagoswere given weapons by white men toaid in the fight against the commonApache enemy. Here then, are 250years of opportunity for Papagos tohave acquired firearms.Add this fact: Papagos tradition-

INSPECTS ADOBE BRICKS BEINGON THE PAPAGO RESERVATION

ally cached their native weapons clubs, shields and bows-and-arrowsin cave or rock shelters near "enemyterritory." It would have been in keep-ing for them to have built a specialstructure to house such special wea-pons as firearms.Father Bonaventure Oblasser, aFranciscan priest who has been among

the Papagos since 1910, knows moreabout these people than any other liv-ing person. He told me he never heardof a weapon arsenalbut he thinksthere is a good chance one exists. Fora time in the late 1870s, Pimas andPapagos were having serious troublewith white settlers along the GilaRiver, he points out. The situationbecame so bad that the Arizona Mil-itia was called out. By the time thesoldiers arrived from Prescott, the In-dians were the picture of innocence,and the Militia commander could findnothing wrong. Father Bonaventuresuggests the arsenal Bancroft saw wasbuilt about that time, and that themoving of firearms to this point on apotential "frontier" suggests how closePapagos and Pimas actually came tofighting white men at that late date.

If there ever were a Papago arsenal,it's not likely the guns have been dis-posed of. The sale of such weaponswould almost certainly have inducedcomment in the press. Once the needfor the guns disappeared, there wasno reason for any Papago to go tothe arsenal and such things are

quickly forgotten by our Indian neigh-bors. They place no emphasisor, atleast, placed no emphasis 50 years agoon the historical value of things.The adobe building, if it exists, isdoubtless in ruins, the roof and wallscollapsed and the adobe melting backto earth. Even 76 years in the groundin dry desert country, though, will not

destroy iron and brass weaponsandthe wooden handles might still be in-tact.Today, it is against the law to tres-pass on the reservation. A permit is

needed by all would-be lost-arsenalhunters. The man to write to for suchpermission is Enos Francisco, Chair-man, Papago Indian Tribal Council,Sells, Arizona. Only the Tribal Coun-cil can grant a permit.

If the guns are there, they are theproperty of the Papagos, and anyonerequesting a permit to look for theweapons would have to agree to turnthe weapons over to the Tribe. More-over, searchers will have to be carefulnot to dig in prehistoric sites on thereservation, since such locations areprotected by Federal law. Diggingshouldn't be necessary, though, be-cause at least a few of the severalhundred guns are sure to be showingon the surfaceif they were ever there.

The Papagos have a beautiful audi-torium at Sellsthe perfect place forthese ancient weapons to be placed onpermanent display.END


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l i v e l y p a s tt r a n q u i l p r e s e n th o p e f u l f u t u r e

By MARGARET STOVALL

THERE IS NO historical landmark in Pioche, Nevada,that says, "This is the place where the sheriff gunneddown three outlaws as an Eastern bride stepped fromthe stagecoach. She stayed three minutes." There is nosignpost pointing to "Boothill," which in Pioche is stillintact; nor to the once-active mines on the town fringes.But, there are signs that tell you where to find thesheriff of Lincoln County, and a good night's lodging.If you are lucky enough to stay awhile in the Piochearea you will find that the folks who live here hold a richhistorical heritage, and possibly a rich future!Pioche is on a turnoff from U.S. Highway 93, abouthalfway between Ely and Glendale, and 190 miles north-east of Las Vegas.Many people drive through Pioche, remarking on itspicturesque mountainside location, its streets that curveup and around and down again. They see the yawningholes of the silent mines, and the silent blankness of thedeserted buildings. An old mine cable stretches across thetop of the town to the long-quiet smelters in the valleybelowa steel line from which ore-carts still dangle.Forty million dollars was taken from this ground, but theold-timers declare the early operators only "scratched thesurface."Residents of Pioche have not felt that their townwith its mining camp historyhas to be exploited or pro-moted. Its only need, they believe, is to be kept intactand alive. The future will deal kindly with the place.

PIOCHE'S $1,000,000 COURTHOUSE WAS ABANDONEDIN 1933 - THREE YEARS BEFORE IT WAS PAID FOR

Peggy Hartley welcomed us to the modern HartleyMotel, a gas station and vacant lot away from the oldcourthouse, and overlooking Meadow Valley below. Peggyimmediately sensed that we were "history hunters." "Someof the old records down at the courthouse mention awhipping post," she said. "It should have been very nearhere. We keep looking for a trace of it."Pioche was never famous for its hangings," Peggyadded. "The boys rarely waited that long. But there wassupposed to have been a hanging tree across the street."We asked about Boothill. "You drive down past thenew grade school, keep going for a block or so, then bearoff to the right. You'll see Boothill on the slope below.It's the second cemetery. You can't miss it. It's just likeit's always been."There are well-known old "name camps" in the area;some of them still lively, others turned to ghosts. Thereis Alamo, Caliente, Panaca, Delamar and Carpand thePahranagat Valley which, less than 100 years ago, waspopulated by some of the most hardened gunmen, horsethieves and cattle rustlers in all of Western history.The sunlight struck through the barred courthouse

basement windows as we visited with "Ikey" Orr, sheriffof Nevada's vast Lincoln-County."Problems?" Sheriff Orr repeated my question. "Well,it isn't the real criminals that give us gray hairs in thispart of the country. The 'professionals' have records."What makes us hop are the young people from Los


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Angeles and Salt Lake City with stolen carsand familyarguments, drunks, floaters and the threat of fire."Fire is a lurking villain in Pioche. In 1871 flamesalmost wiped out the town and the people with it. Thefire, racing out of control, exploded 20 kegs of blastingpowder stored in the basement of a mid-town building.Thirteen were killed, 47 injured.Only three years ago, Pioche fought flames as historythreatened to repeat itself. A wind-swept blaze racedthrough the dry desert brush below town. It came withinwhispering distance of two nearby ammunition dumps. But

Things have simmered do wn in Pioche. O nc eNevada's "most lawless camp," today thetown is as tranquil as the surrounding desert.the volunteer fire departmentand the people of Piochebrought it under control."Any fire in a mining camp is always a potential dis-aster," the sheriff said.

He thought we might like to talk to Alexander Lloyd,a former law enforcement officer now in charge of thecounty's welfare department.Al sat in front of a window overlooking the town inwhich he was born. He recalls when 23 mining companiessounded 23 distinct steam whistles to set the time of day.His father was superintendent of one of the mines, hisfather-in-law, Jake Johnson, was sheriff for 20 years."There isn't a hole up there on the hill that I haven'tbeen dow n," he said. "As a boy I explored them all."There used to be a narrow gauge railroad into townwhere the highway is now. It replaced ore-hauling oxenin the early '70s. Fuel for the smelters, where the c ompli-cated lead-silver-zinc-gold ore was broken down, was thebiggest early problem."You can see the stumps where the trees were choppeddown all over the high country," Al said.But when the mine shafts hit water at the 2100-footlevel, the problems of the mining companies were insur-mountable.Al does not believe this would still hold true withcoday's cheaper power from Hoover Dam and vastly im-proved engineering techniques. The re was no tapering offof the rich veins at the fateful 1200-foot lev el water tha tcould not be drained off was what defeated them."The district here is rich, and not only in high grade,"he declared. Al cited the Bristol Silver Mine which hasbeen in operation since the '70s and is still going strong,with a three-man operation "on the other side of the hill."Ore from the Bristol is valued at $7000 a carloadwhichnetted i ts three operators between $50,000 and $60,000last year."When you come right down to it," Al said, "I don'tthink this area has been touched. You d on't find oreunless you dig, and Pioche's bonanza didn't even start at1200 feet."Al Lloyd has some comparisons on the law enforce-ment picture, too."There isn't any difference between the criminal ele-ment then and now ," he said. "Bu t we're moving faster.The sheriffs these days have a tougher job; a criminal cantravel 700 or more miles in less than a day. But withmodern communications, the law officers are able to morethan mee t the challenge. Sheriff Jak e a half centuryago had two horses and a buckboard. I t took him twoweeks to travel from here to Searchlight."The heavy barred door of the historic jail behind theold courthouse hangs open and rusted. The jail 's "recep -

tion" room has a heavy chain cemented to the floor. Oneof the cells still contains two iron bunks, another has acrumbling mattress on the floor, spotlighted by a dim slitof light that reaches to the sky. Th e steel cage of a newerannex has been moved down the hill to serve the newCounty Jail. Fo r inescapable solidity, the older jail seemsacceptable.And there's the letter signed, "Sarah Kathryn Dyer,"in the Co unty R eco rde r's office. As a little girl in 18 75 ,

Sarah Kathryn was locked inside one of these cellsforlearning how to swear. Sarah was 77 when she wrote toPioche in 1949 for a picture of the old courthouse and jailshe remembered so well. Her family home had been di-rectly north of the courthouse, and she used to play on thesteps of the court building."I have traveled all over the world," she said in herletter, "but in memory, this is still the most beautiful build-ing I have ever seen."She recalled that she had been enticed, as a child, bythe muleskinners into learning new frontier wo rds. Sheexplained, "Sheriff McKeewe called him 'Fat Mack'took matters into his own hands, as was the privilege ofsheriffs in those days."He said, 'Sarah, I am going to lock you up until youpromise to stop swearing.' He kep t me in the cell for 20minutes, trying to extract the promise . Finally I said, 'Iwill stop swearing when I am six years old and start toschool. ' Appa rently it was a satisfactory comprom ise. A c-cording to my mother, I was at no time a profane childthereafter."After Mrs. Dyer had written for the picture of thecourthouse, several people in Pioche wanted to contact

ALEXANDE R LLOYD IS CONFID ENT THAT PIOCHE'S NO WDO RMANT MINES AGAIN WILL BE IN PRO DUCTION


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PIOCHE'S " B O O T H I L L. " IN BACK GROUND AN OLD ORE BUCKET HANGSFROM CABLE OF TRAM THAT ONCE HAULED ORE FROM MI NE TO SMELTER.

her. The address she gave was a Los Angeles hotel, butall correspondence went unanswered. Her two letters, theone asking for the picture, the other thanking them for it,are in the County files. Recorder Dominick Belingher alsohas a complete file of the Pioche newspapers from the year1872, and a similar file is available at the office of thePioche Record.

We followed the directions to Boothill"past the newschool a block or so, then bear off to the right."It wasn't hard to find."Boothills" have a way of characterizing mining camps.Tombstone's cemetery, though filled with illustrious char-acters, has been reconstructed and is pilfer-proof. There

is no doubt about who is buried where, and the non-per-manent guests enter through a turnstile.But in unpromoted Pioche, Boothillentered througha rusty gate, is just simply there, as it was. A brass head-

O LD MINI NG CAMP OF PIOCHE IS PEACEFUL TODAY, BUT 75 MEN DIEDO F GUNSHOT HERE BEFORE THE FIRST NATURAL DEATH WAS RECORDED

stone stands adjacent to a weather-beaten hardwood slab,whose identifying markings are lost to time and weather.A large boulder is hand-chiseled with pertinent informationregarding the demise of a friend; nearby rows of unmarkedgraves attest to the unimportance or disrepute of theiroccupants.There are fences and cairns and small wooden crosses,and there is a separate section for the Orientals. Over allgrows the desert vegetation, and the desert wind has with-

ered the recent floral tributes to the long-ago departed.A story comes to mind about two desperadoes con-victed of killing an aged prospector. Early Pioche "justice"sentenced them to dig their own graves, then stand besidethem to be shot. Theirs could be any two of the unmarkedmounds.And you think of Alexander Lloyd's recountal of theexperiences of an Irishman named Mat Hurley. "Big Mathad taken a job helping out the undertaker. It was hisfirst pick-up, and he was taking the 'body' on a stretcheracross the street to his boss. All of a sudden, the 'corpse'sat up. 'Where you taking me?' the drunk wanted toknow, 'I'm not hurt bad.'

"Big Mat looked at the fellow in disgust, then shoveahim back fiat. 'Who knows best?' he asked, 'the doc oryou?' "We figured Big Mat's "casualty" filled one of Pioche'sgravesbut maybe not that night.Somewhere, too, in this graveyard were the remains of75 men who died of gunshot before Pioche recorded itsfirst death by natural causes.The sun was sinking behind the mountains, and theshadows were reaching down, obscuring the world aroundus . "The veins hadn't begun to taper off" AlexanderLloyd reminded us.More than $40,000,000 had been taken out above

the water level. Was there another $40,000,000 below?Available accommodations in Pioche include two motelsand one older hotel. There are no facilities at Panaca. AtCaliente, 25 miles south, there are numerous motels andother facilities, including an old railroad hotel and a hotspring.END

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M E X I C O ' SD E S E R TH IG H W A Y

By NELL MURBARGERMEXICO'S ROUTE 2 parallels the International Bor-der, linking Mexicali, Baja California, with Sonoyta,Sonora175 miles of pavement I had never traveledbefore. Th is may seem like a strange place for a lonewoman to take a camping trip, but in my heart there's aspecial niche for remote landsand I blessed the impulsethat led me to make this short journey.The first leg of the road out of Mexicali passes throughMexicali Valley, and but for the absence of Colonial man-sions and Negro mammies, I might have been deep in theheart of Dixie. Here are the same lazily m eanderingcanals reflecting blue sky and white clouds, the same thou-sands of flat acres dedicated t o King Cotto n. In the firstdozen miles out of Mexicali I passed a dozen fine moderncotton gins, as well as several huge factories devoted toprocessing cottonseed oil and meal; while gin yards, bigas rodeo fields, held millions of dollars worth of baledcotton awaiting shipment to textile centers of the world.

It is easy to understand why the eyes of many would-be empire builders have fallen on this great Mexican valley.One of these men was Harry Chandler, late publisher ofth e Los Angeles Times. In association with other moneyedCalifornians, Chandler, late in the 19th Century, purchasedapproximately a million acres of this land and began thecostly process of clearing away the mesquite jungles, level-ing the dunes, surveying irrigation canals, and bringing thesoil und er cultivation. Co tton gins and cottons eed oil millswere built, and the Colorado delta country of Baja Cali-fornia was started on its way to prosperity.

SO NOYTA LIES AT FOO T O F HILIS IN DISTANCE

Never highly profitable, the development was doomedin the 1930s when peon settlers, sponsored by the AgrarianReform Movement, took over a quarter-million acres of theimproved land. Th e Mex ican government eventually paidindemnity and acquired the remaining property, but thetotal recovered by Chandler and his associates was report-edly less than cost of the improvements alone.In the open desert beyond the trim cotton fields, man'sactivities are confined to tiny villages strung along the high-way like beads on a Ros ary. With their cross-hatchingof unpaved side-streets flanked by one-story adobe hutsand mud-and-pole jacals; their fences fashioned of ocotillowands and bamboo, their few tiny places of business andbevies of brown-skinned youngsters these villages areonly a few miles from California's teeming centers of popu-lation, yet are as typica

196001 Desert Magazine 1960 January

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